


After Hours

by botanicalTJ



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Banter, Boys In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Merlin is a Little Shit, Merthur - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Protective Merlin, Rival Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Suggestive Themes, Teasing, Tenderness, they're not really rivals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27255625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/botanicalTJ/pseuds/botanicalTJ
Summary: The prince's royal servant is never off the clock.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 274





	After Hours

**Author's Note:**

> hi, i want to kiss arthur pendragon's forehead. that's all. carry on.
> 
> content warning for a slight suggestive joke

The castle was quiet, uneventful under the rich blanket of night sky. Most of its inhabitants slept in content, even a few of the night guards who knew they weren't being watched too closely. The winter air was chilled but the hearths were well stocked. Fires blazed in every bedroom this time of year, keeping the royal family and their staff warm through the hours of darkness.

Merlin knelt before the fire pit, carefully setting logs into the low-flickering flame. He was quiet, so as not to wake Gaius, but his hands shook with cold. They were lucky to receive rations of kindling that they didn't have to chop themselves, but on nights like these, the fire rarely burned long enough to keep the chill from gripping Merlin's bones. And he was much younger and heartier than the castle's physician, so he took it upon himself to keep their chambers warm.

It was typically a job done in minutes, just long enough for the bottoms of his feet to ache against the cold stone floor. But tonight, their corner of the castle wasn't inactive like it usually was. Merlin placed the last log onto the fire just in time to hear the thud of footsteps out in the corridor, steadily approaching. His instincts immediately sprung to life, freezing him in one place and making his magic tingle in his fingertips, like even the universe was preparing him to use it. The footsteps grew closer, louder until they stopped right outside the door. Dread filled the hollow of his chest, eyes sharpening as much as they could in the low light, and the door creaked ajar.

" _Arthur?"_ Merlin forgot for a moment that Gaius was asleep just across the room, because out of everyone who could have been entering their chambers at this hour, the prince was the last person he'd anticipated. His fist uncurled where he'd been bracing himself, arm falling loose at his side. The tension slid from his shoulders; the biggest threat he was possibly facing now was Arthur ordering him to do chores in his pajamas. "It's the middle of the night-"

"I know what time it is." Arthur stood in his doorway wearing only a pair of trousers, nothing on his feet or torso. He didn't even look to be cold, his arms crossed over his bare chest in the proud stance his spine had been trained to align to. Merlin knew for a fact that he'd been in bed just a few hours ago, but not a single hair on his head looked out of place, because of _course_ it didn't. He looked the same as he might have standing in the Great Hall, sans proper attire. Even his disgruntled expression matched his daytime demeanor. He curled his lip when a beat passed without response, stepping further into the room. The door fell shut behind him. "Well? Are you just going to sit there?"

"Didn't realize you needed my services past your bedtime, sire." A grin broke across Merlin's lips, though he lowered his voice this time. Gaius was a heavy sleeper, evident by how he hadn't moved at all since the door flew open, but he didn't want to risk waking him. Still, he rose to his feet and took a few steps towards the prince. Arthur didn't look especially panicked, and if there were urgent matters to attend to, he would have disclosed them long before now. In fact, he just looked vaguely unsettled, like even he was unsure of what he was doing in their chambers at this hour.

"My room is unfit to sleep in." Arthur brushed past Merlin, effectively wiping the grin off his servant's face. Merlin whirled around to watch his ever-considerate lord head straight for his room in the back of the tower, like it was own carefully constructed floor plan instead of staffs' quarters. 

Merlin was at his heels immediately. "So you take possession of mine?" He watched, dumbfounded, as Arthur took a seat on _his_ bed that he'd been occupying less than fifteen minutes ago. The prince had never been particularly knowledgeable of the social conventions among commonfolk—or of any lower class etiquette, for that matter—but even this was a step below where Arthur's manners tended to fall. Even the king himself rarely barged into his men's chambers and demanded to have their beds for the night. "What's the matter with your room?"

"When was the last time you cleaned it?" There was no bite behind the words; Arthur was too busy aggressively brushing invisible soil off Merlin's sheets. "If it's anything like _your_ room, I should be worried."

"My apologies, sire, that my bed isn't fit for a prince," Merlin scoffed, frozen at his own bedside. His room wasn't unkempt at all, considering how little time he spent in it. Not much time to recline in one's private quarters when there were tedious chores to be done every hour. Every hour except when the prince was asleep, which he _should_ have been now. "I just scrubbed your floors earlier in the week, and sent your bedding to be washed yesterday morning, so your room should be just fine."

"Of course you would think so, seeing the state you're comfortable in," Arthur sneered up at him, smoothing the sheets one more time before he swung his legs up to lay properly on the bed. He squirmed around underneath the blanket, adjusting and readjusting the uncased pillow beneath his head. The sight only further prodded the annoyance stirring in Merlin's gut.

"Right, well, if you're so eager to swap places," he said dryly, grabbing the spare blanket off the end of the bed. He unfolded it and tossed it over Arthur in one fell swoop, ignoring the spluttering when it landed right over his face. "I'll go sleep in your bed."

Instantly, Arthur threw the blanket to the side and reached out to grab Merlin's arm before he could move an inch from where he was standing. "You will _not_ ," he huffed, narrowing his eyes. "Servants aren't permitted to sleep anywhere but the antechambers and their own quarters."

"Well, you've taken mine," Merlin raised an eyebrow at him, fighting back the impish smirk that threatened his expression. It was so easy to outwit Arthur if one knew the right buttons to press. "I could sleep on the infirmary cots, but that would be irresponsible, wouldn't it? What if someone were to fall ill before morning?"

"You still can't have my bed," Arthur shook his head, as serious in his tone as a bout of consumption. He yanked his arm, dragging Merlin forward so suddenly that his knees hit the edge of the mattress. He just barely stopped himself from toppling right on top of the blonde, free hand braced against the sheets. Arthur's soured face was mere inches from his. "Lay down."

"Wait, I didn't mean—" His words were cut off in a squawk as Arthur yanked again, making Merlin actually fall onto his chest. Heat akin to flames surged through his face as he scrambled off, settling no further than the prince's side with arms pinning him in place. The bed wasn't big enough for two grown men (or a bulked knight and his lanky servant, for that matter), but Arthur didn't seem to care. He kept one forearm tight over Merlin's chest to keep him still and reached down for the blankets pooled at his waist, drawing them up over their bodies.

"Now, will you stop your fussing?" Arthur laid his head back down on the pillow, effectively taking up most of the bed with how he stretched his limbs out. Not that Merlin was concerned about falling off; the prince's arms were locked in an iron grip that only magic could break at this point. "I need plenty of rest to be ordering you around all day."

"No one is forcing you," Merlin griped, but fell silent right after. This was a situation no one had prepared him for in beginning his employment at the castle; but then, he had a strong feeling that the noble Prince Arthur, destined ruler of Camelot, didn't make a habit of sharing beds with his servants. He laid there several moments, staring wide-eyed at the wall across from him, wondering how he would explain this to Gaius were the man to wake before either of them did the next morning. They were so close together that Merlin could sync their breathing if he desired as such. At least that was one certain way to make sure Arthur was still alive.

"Arthur."

" _Mer_ lin, does that mouth of yours ever get a rest?"

"Not when I'm _your_ manservant." Merlin jabbed an elbow into Arthur's chest with just enough force that he could turn his body over with the momentary weakening of clutch. Once again, they were face to face, noses nearly brushing together. Merlin told himself they wouldn't have to be so close if Arthur would just scoot over, but the way it made his heart twinge suggested he felt differently about it than his tone revealed. Arthur's eyes were blue, blue, blue, moonlight reflecting in them from the window; he looked between his brows instead. "Your room was fine when you turned in for the night."

"Maybe you'd know the matter if you slept in the antechamber like a proper servant." Once again, the strike against Merlin's dependability lacked any proper force; something unfamiliar shadowed Arthur's features in lowered eyes and a grimace. "It's nothing that pertains to you, Merlin, go to sleep."

"What, are you afraid of the dark?" Merlin meant it entirely in jest, knowing it wasn't true, but it was still fun to watch the appalled expression flash on the other's face. "Didn't know the great Prince Arthur could be scared of anything."

"I'm not scared, you halfwit, shut up about that." Arthur was all but pouting, and in their close proximity, Merlin could see the drowsiness in his eyes and the lack of the disciplined composure that he wore everywhere his face was shown. Everywhere but Merlin's bed in the middle of the night, apparently. 

"Then what _is_ it?" Merlin's hand twitched at his side, a fleeting impulse to push that one piece of golden hair off of Arthur's forehead where it was dangerously close to his eye. He kept still. "Tell me, so I can tend to it and have my bed back tomorrow."

Arthur didn't say anything at first, his mouth opening but no words coming out. He closed it after a moment, pressing his lips together in a tight line, then exhaled a sharp breath that Merlin felt brush across his cheek. "There's a rat."

"A rat?" Merlin stared at him, laughter threatening to bubble up from his chest that he fought with all his might to keep down. It was absurd to think about, a simple rat being the breaking point of Camelot's future king. He supposed they all had their limits; it was just unexpected for a rodent to be Arthur's. "In your room?"

"Yes, in the closet." In a very, very rare moment of sheer humility, Arthur's voice didn't have an ounce of brashness to it. In fact, he even met Merlin's eyes, for once looking like the young man he really was underneath a lifetime of building status as a fierce warrior. "I can't sleep, knowing it's there."

Merlin bit back a comment about how if there were rats in the prince's room, then there were most certainly rats in _his_ quarters as well. Such statements would do little good in getting his privacy back the next evening, or soothing the anxiety that pinched Arthur's face into something unrecognizable for someone so noble. Merlin had no doubt that he was one of the very few people to have ever seen such vulnerability in the man. 

"I'll take care of it, sire," he spoke instead, without any of his usual witticism. He didn't feel much like laughing at him anymore; in fact, he snuck a hand up to rest light as air on Arthur's bicep. Now it was he who didn't want to look him in the eye. Something about that sort of confession, of what could startle a man of steel such as the prince, forced a silence over his brain about how he could best poke fun at him for it. Arthur was a royal prat, yes; but he was apparently also human.

The muscle beneath his hand flexed for a moment, then Arthur's arm came around Merlin's back once more. Merlin was pulled closer, ducking his head just in time so that his face bumped against Arthur's chest instead of smashing their noses together. He shifted to get comfortable, a feat much easier in what was now an _embrace_ instead of a grip. And finally, he settled with his head pillowed on the other's chest, arms strong and safe around him.

"I'll pen a letter tomorrow," Arthur mumbled against the top of his head, just as Merlin closed his eyes. "Let the rats know they'll need to leave Camelot under immediate order."

Merlin waited for the punchline, any indication that it was a joke. None of that came, but he wasn't startled; it was prince Arthur, after all. Fearless, headstrong, invincible prince Arthur. _His_ prince Arthur. "Good night, sire."

"Good night, idiot."

**Author's Note:**

> and there was only one bed.
> 
> thanks for reading :)


End file.
